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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228914">A Welcome Distraction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/pseuds/MaesterChill'>MaesterChill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A wink, Auror Partners, Claustrophobia, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Hogwarts, Trapped In Elevator, Trapped in a Lift, Work Partners to Lovers, devious!harry, wanking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:13:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/pseuds/MaesterChill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Harry get trapped in a Ministry lift.<br/>Whatever shall they do to distract themselves?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lock Down Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Welcome Distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope everyone is safe and well, or at least looking after themselves. Love to you all. I hope this brings you a smile in these trying times.</p><p>Thanks so much to the brilliant, brilliant mods of this fest.</p><p>And thanks to the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackytiger/">Tackiest of Tigers</a> for checking over this little fic for me. You're a true gem.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's been a long, frustrating day.</p><p>I’m irritated. It's a persistent itch under my skin that I just can't seem to scratch, and all I really want right now is to get home and sink into a hot fragrant bath of eucalyptus and rosemary. And forget about fucking Dark wizards and illegal portkeys.</p><p>Potter, as per usual, is oblivious. He's chattering away next to me about the day’s mission as the lift doors slide shut, and it's really not helping matters.</p><p>I sigh in exasperation. He stops babbling and turns to face me.</p><p>“Oh, I know <em>that </em>sound,” he says. “Listen, mate, you didn’t fail back there, okay? Seriously.” He shrugs. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”</p><p>“Well, that’s patently obvious,” I snap, and I press the button for the Auror offices, a little more forcefully than is strictly necessary. A lot more.</p><p>We stand side by side as the lift starts going down, and I can <em>feel </em>his eyes rolling at me. </p><p>“I get it, Malfoy. It’s been a really long day, and we both just want to get home. And once we file the report of today's fiasco, we can do that.” </p><p>I hate that he knows me so well.</p><p>“I just really thought we had them,” I say, finally.</p><p>“Yeah,” he agrees, “so did I. But there was no way you could have known that they’d be—”</p><p>A loud, metallic screech cuts him off. The lift comes to a jarring halt, sending us both wobbling on our feet.</p><p>The lights flicker, then dim to an eerie glow. Oh perfect.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Potter’s voice breaks the silence.</p><p>“Fucking ancient Ministry lifts, that’s what.” This is honestly the last thing I need.</p><p>“I don’t believe this!” Potter slams his hands against the lift door, then rests his forehead between them. </p><p>“Simmer down, Potter. It’s not <em>that </em>bad. We can’t Apparate from here obviously, but I’ll send my Patronus for help, and someone from Magical Maintenance will be here in a jiffy. Banging on the doors won’t do any good. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re between floors.”</p><p>“I know that!” he huffs, spinning around to lean his back on the door. Merlin, such a <em>temper</em>.</p><p>“No need to get yourself in a tizz,” I sniff, as I pull my wand. “<em>Expecto Patronum!</em>” </p><p>But rather than my usual graceful swan, all that emerges is a dim, thin curl of mist. Fiddlesticks. </p><p>I try again, focussing on the beaming face of my mother at my NEWTs ceremony, her eyes glistening, her hands clapping vigorously. </p><p>But it’s no use. </p><p>“Let me try,” Potter says, but I can hear the shake in his voice. His face is shinier than usual, flushed. Potter doesn’t like this. Exactly why, I have no idea, but something about this situation has the Chosen One sweating like a werewolf at summer solstice.</p><p>But when Potter fails to produce his infamous stag, even I begin to worry. </p><p>“It’s got to be some kind of magical interference issue. Just bloody great,” he—quite frankly—<em>whinges</em>. “We could be stuck in here for <em>hours</em>.” </p><p>He’s pacing around like a lion in a cage now.</p><p>“Or the whole weekend, if no one realises the problem,” I add, unhelpfully as it turns out. </p><p>Potter stops pacing and makes a noise, halfway between a gasp and a gulp. </p><p>“What is it?” I ask, as his breathing gets louder. </p><p>“You know I hate cramped places,” he whispers, so quietly that I almost don’t catch it.</p><p>“Ah,” I say. </p><p>How could I have forgotten about Potter’s claustrophobia? If I think about it, I suppose we didn’t ever speak about it after that one time we did speak about it, not long after we’d been partnered together, when he stuttered out the confession—the most awkward I’d ever seen him. And that was saying a lot. Curse those vile Dursleys and their wretched cupboard. After that we just avoided cramped places, or I searched them alone while Potter had my back. And we said no more about it.</p><p>But right now, we don’t have much choice. We’re stuck.</p><p>He begins pacing the tiny space again, breathing heavily. “It feels like the walls are closing in.”</p><p>“But you know they’re not. You <em>know </em>that.”</p><p>He stops then and leans his arms against the mirrored wall of the lift, and I can tell he’s desperately trying to steady his breathing. </p><p>I study his reflection. His pulse is rippling at his temples.</p><p>“You need to calm down,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and deep.</p><p>He shakes his head before managing to pant out the word “<em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>“Someone will come and get us out soon.” I’m not sure I sound convincing. </p><p>“You can’t know that,” he croaks. </p><p>And it scares me a little, to be honest, seeing Potter so fearful and vulnerable. But I owe it to my partner. I need to help him</p><p>I push off the wall I’m leaning against and cross the short distance to him, ending up standing directly behind him. Not quite touching but almost; I can feel the heat coming off his back. I lean closer and talk softly into his ear.</p><p>“I said you need to calm down.”</p><p>He emits a small moan at my words, which I’d almost describe as <em>needy</em>. How interesting. Merlin. </p><p>I remind myself to check my thoughts, this is really no time to…</p><p>Because I’ve liked Potter for such a long, long time, and I genuinely forget about it sometimes. It’s irrelevant; we’re work partners, nothing more.</p><p>Potter’s legs are shaking now. I need to focus on calming him down.</p><p>I put my arms around him strongly and pull him firm against my chest. “Take a deep breath,” I say, and I feel his body obeying the command. “Good,” I say. “Very good.”</p><p>And this time the moan is louder… and my eyes snap to his in the mirror. He’s still panting, but his eyes are burning black in the dim light, staring right into mine, and there’s literally <em>nothing </em>I can do about my cock swelling in response. Oh gods, he’ll be able to feel it any second now.</p><p>I’m frozen under his intense gaze.</p><p>Something is happening here. Well, it’s not. But it <em>is</em>. Or at least it could be. I need to say something or do something before the moment passes. </p><p>“Um,” I say, embarrassingly. Fucking cowardly idiot, just <em>say </em>it. “I think perhaps you might need <em>distracting </em>while we’re in here.” And I cringe at how corny that sounds.</p><p>He swallows audibly and nods, and I forget how to breathe for a second.</p><p>I move my hands to his hips, fingers sliding over the furrows and bumps of his abs—which, can I just say, I can feel <em>through </em>his uniform—all the while watching him closely for any signs he wants me to stop. I pull him flush against the hard ridge in my trousers. </p><p>“You want this, Potter?” I whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Our eyes meet again in the mirror, and he nods, like before. </p><p>I can hardly believe it. I’m about have some sort of sex with <em>Harry Potter</em>. And while I feel I'm possibly taking advantage of him—well, very likely, actually, the bloke’s suffering from claustrophobia, for Merlin’s sake—I can see the hunger in his eyes, and it’s that open desire that chases away my scruples. </p><p>And it’s shadowy in here, and warm, and I can smell Potter now, bergamot and salt-sweat and musk. In the absence of any magic, I can really feel the tension vibrating in the air, really taste the anticipation, sweet and rich. My heart is in my throat and my dick—Salazar, my dick is rock-hard and trying its damnedest to burst a hole through my trousers.</p><p>“Hands above your head." I say, low-voiced. “Palms flat. Good,” I add when Potter does as he’s told. “That’s good.”</p><p>Really Potter should be protesting, reading me my rights and all that, but instead he’s rubbing his groin against the brushed steel rail in front of him, and groaning softly. Gods, he’s eager.</p><p>He sucks in a breath as I run my hands down the planes of his back. Like this, he feels open and vulnerable. An upswell of awe causes my hands to tremble, and so I stroke them over his arse and <em>squeeze</em>. </p><p>“That’s good,” I say again, in an entirely different tone of voice.</p><p>I draw in a shallow breath and stutter it out again, then I reach around and clumsily unbuckle Potter’s belt. I curse when I manage to hit my knuckles on the rail, but then there’s a clunk and the belt rattles open.</p><p>Potter laughs then, amusement quivering through his body. The clumsiness helps, somehow. Makes it seem all the more real, that we’re really doing this, here and now. </p><p>“Fuck,” I say. “We’re really doing this, then.”</p><p>Potter pants again fogging up the mirror, “Yeah.” There are smears of condensation beneath his sweating palms. </p><p>“Tell me what you want.”</p><p>He doesn't miss a beat. “I need you to make me forget where I am.”</p><p>And fuck, how could any mortal man refuse him that? Dear Salazar.</p><p>“I think I can manage that,” I breathe, a lot more reverently than I’d have liked.</p><p>I slip my hands into his pants, pull out his swelling cock, and begin to stroke. And I reflect that this is a scenario I’d imagined countless times when I was younger, taking place in countless different ways. Merlin, twenty-something Draco would never have dreamt it would ever <em>actually </em>happen. And that Potter would be meeting his gaze like this in the mirror, with dark want-filled eyes, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Biting on his bottom lip and moaning like a Knockturn whore. It’s very fucking hot.</p><p>I only realise I'm grinding into him when he begins to roll himself back to meet my thrusts. </p><p>Potter’s head lolls forward and his mouth drops open, slack in pure pleasure, and the sight is almost too much to bear. I clamp my eyes shut, knowing that if I keep watching I won’t be able to keep myself from coming. He pushes back against me a little too roughly, and tears prick the corners of my eyes, one spilling over and running down my cheek.</p><p>We soon build up a confident rhythm, and when he stiffens and cries out hoarsely, it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard in a long time. I open my eyes just in time to witness the last spurts decorating the mirror and see his scrunched-up face relax into one of tired satiation. </p><p>He turns around then, still-half-hard crotch exposed and looking glorious in the low flicker of the emergency lighting. </p><p>It’s silent for a moment as he catches his breath, as we both do. And it’s reaching the point of awkward.</p><p>“Do you… um?” I say, most ineloquently.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, though I’m not sure what question he’s answering.</p><p>Without warning, his lips are on mine, rough and demanding, and I’m pushed backwards towards the opposite wall. </p><p>He grabs my hips and effortlessly lifts me up, then sits me on the handrail. I wrap my legs around his waist automatically, grinding my clothed erection against his naked crotch, and plunging my fingers into his sex-damp hair. We kiss and kiss.</p><p>Potter pulls away for a moment to unbutton my trousers and free me from my pants. I hear him mutter a lube spell, and then I feel his hand on me, slippery but sure. He glides it up and down, and it’s heavenly. Tendrils of satisfaction work their way through my body, beginning to ease the frustration and disappointment that had me so wound up.</p><p>When I come, I cry out Potter’s name—<em>Harry! Oh Harry!</em>—bowing my back off of the wall of the lift. Potter bites down on the junction of my shoulder and neck and growls low in his throat, his muscled arm pumping repeatedly as he shepherds me through my orgasm. </p><p>And then I’m helplessly pressing a series of little kisses and tying together a string of senseless praises against the crook of his neck, <em>so good, so amazing, gods if you only knew</em>. </p><p>He pulls me close, swaying me gently, and croons against my hair, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” and it startles me out of my neck nuzzle soliloquy… thing.</p><p>I don’t know what to do with that right now, so I ask the question I’d tried to ask earlier. “Do you… feel better now?” It seems ridiculous, but I feel the need to ascertain whether my distraction efforts were effective.</p><p>He smiles. “Yes. Thank you.” There’s an odd glint in his eye. A bit of mischief.</p><p>My brain catches up with me then. “Just a minute,” I say. “Just a bloody sodding minute.”</p><p>He raises his eyebrows in a question, his smile curling into a grin.</p><p>“How the arsing hell did you conjure lube, when there’s no magic?”</p><p>“Ah,” he says, wagging a finger at me. And the guilt in his eyes makes my world tilt violently, with a squeal and a flash, or at least that’s what it feels like. But it turns out it’s just the lift resuming its interrupted descent, and it hits me: Potter just non-verbally got the lift going again. Which means...</p><p>“You bastard. You iniquitous solid-gold <em>libertine </em>bastard. I was <em>worried </em>about you!” He’s laughing now, the absolute prick, and then stuffing his absolute prick back into his trousers. Which reminds me to do mine too. “I should report you,” I huff, buttoning myself up.</p><p>“C’mon Malfoy. I wanted to get you out of the total mardy you were in earlier. And it worked, right? Though... you do seem to be retreating back into sulk territory again.” </p><p>“Oh, piss off,” I grumble, embarrassment staining my cheeks. “So, were you not feeling claustrophobic at <em>all</em>?” and it comes out all whiny and hurt-feelingsy, and I want to be sick at my patheticness.</p><p>“Oh, I totally was. But I’m able to manage the symptoms pretty well. I just… played it up a little. For you,” he added, almost shyly.</p><p>“Fucker,” I retort, though I’m mollified. “I’ll say something though: you’re a bloody good actor.” A thought strikes me as the lift stops moving and dings our arrival at our floor. “You stopped me from casting my Patronus. How?”</p><p>“Ahh,” says Potter, as the doors slide open. “A little trick I learned from Kingsley back in—”</p><p>“You fellows alright there?” a voice booms, and it’s only Kingsley himself and a bloody concerned crowd of Aurors and maintenance staff staring at us as we exit the lift. “You were trapped in there for quite a while. The maintenance team were unable to counter whatever jinx or spell had stopped the lift. It was a right doozy of a thing.”</p><p>I look at Potter while he blithely explains how everything was fine (the onlookers won’t have missed our rumpled appearance, or the flush on Potter’s cheeks, but we’re both smiling, so…) and that it was no big deal, and he’s no idea what caused it, and that there was a moment it got a little hairy, but there’s really nothing at all to worry about, and it’s then I notice the ruby-coloured bruise peeking out over the top of his collar. I fight against the laugh that wants to force itself into existence, and my cheeks and jaw ache from the effort. </p><p>Kingsley has several more questions for us, which Potter expertly fields. He even manages to throw a wink my way when the boss isn’t looking, which sets my moronic pulse to racing. </p><p>Because I’m liking this new thing, this brand new version of ‘us’. And I’m really liking this devious Potter. Though he’s always been one to bend the rules occasionally if he thought it would help a case, I hadn’t quite realised how cunning he could really be. And it makes me shiver with delight to think he used those wiles to help <em>me… </em>to <em>seduce </em>me. And the wink. The wink means we have a secret. A hot, intimate secret. But the wink also means everything’s okay. The wink means we're good, that it won’t be awkward. The wink means that maybe… <em>maybe </em>we get to distract each other again. And that perhaps it can just be <em>something we do</em>.</p><p>“So, you’ve wanted that for ages, eh?” I jibe, once we’re safely past the gauntlet and into our shared office, door shut behind us.</p><p>He has the good grace to blush at that. “Yeah, shit. I said that, didn’t I?”</p><p>“You most certainly did. And only one question remains.”</p><p>“Oh? What’s that?”</p><p>“Why the fuck you waited this long to say something,” I state primly. Then I step into his personal space and pull his collar down. “You have a love bite here. I did that.”</p><p>“Do I?” he breathes.</p><p>“And I’m going to give you another one now,” I tell him. His eyes widen, pupils enlarged, there’s barely any green. “Is that okay?” </p><p>He swallows and nods, just as he did in the lift, and I place my mouth against his skin. </p><p> </p>
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